When the Dead Do Walk
by Sinewy
Summary: A five-year-old girl of a little known village flees from an attack of the Dead, leaving behind everything she ever knew. Her Life—and Death—is more of an adventure than any game she played with her long gone friends...
1. A Distraught Elder

**Disclaimer: **The Old Kingdom series, which this is based on, does not belong to me. It's copyrighted Garth Nix. Only the plot (however scarce of that there may be) belongs to me. :)

**Author's Note: **This first chapter is kind of short, a bit fast-paced and not very well written… but next chapter I'll do my best to make it better. I'd love for some helpful critique from anyone at all, whether you enjoyed it or not. Thank-you!

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-This story takes place far in the past, before Sabriel and her mêlée with Kerrigor.The trouble has just begun in the Old Kingdom, slightly before the Interregnum, and the people of a small village are faced with the disturbing threat of the Dead… 

**When the Dead Do Walk  
Chapter One: A Distraught Elder **

The Elder looked down on the children with a wide smile. She crouched to their height, old bones creaking with the effort. Looking each child in their wide, ingenuous eye, she folded her wrinkled hands in front of her expectantly. She seemed about to say something, but paused for a moment as a twig snapped far in the distance. She looked around in one quick movement that no one caught; her attention then again focused on the group of children before her. Finally, she was ready to begin in her bold, craggy voice,

"Children! I am pleased you have gathered here with me today! I ask only one thing of you and it is this: do each of you know and understand thoroughly the rhyme of the Dead that has been taught to you?"

The cluster nodded in inept unison, though the Elder was not satisfied with merely a bob of the head.

"If everyone would be so kind, I ask that you sing it to me now, so I will know no one here lies," A flicker of anxiety escaped her wise eyes, "I do not like it when children lie."

Uneasily, the children looked at each other, troubled by the Elder's fearful eyes. As they were advised, they erratically began the rhyme they were taught what seemed so long ago,

"_When the Dead do walk, seek waters run  
For this the Dead will always shun  
__Deep rivers best, or broadest lake  
__To ward the Dead and haven make  
If water fails thee, fires thy friend  
__If neither guards it shall be thy end._"

The Elder observed some children did not know it as well as others, but their endeavor sufficed. She sighed, and with a slight flick of her wrist she dismissed the small assembly. They ran off in a tumult of excited shouts and shrieks, rushing to become brave knights and beautiful princesses in a forgotten land of magic. The Elder wished she could gain some of their ignorant nature.

Getting firmly to her feet, she glanced around to meet the stare of a young woman with a concerned sentiment about her. She dusted the elaborately stitched long skirt she wore rather unreasonably and feebly ambled over to the woman. They embraced briefly and looked on the village they lived in with hidden sorrow.

"My daughter, I am troubled," The Elder began, "… I fear the Dead."

"There is always the threat of the Dead…" The Elder's daughter began softly, her hands reaching lovingly to her mother, trying to comfort her. But she only shook her head sadly.

"There is greater peril this year," She explained, and hesitated, "I see them in the woods. Not only Dead Hands, but Shadow Hands as well. Waiting, watching. It's as if they linger on command. It frightens me to no end."

The woman sighed and looked longingly at the sky. If only the Abhorsen would come. If only more sinister and evil things weren't brewing elsewhere. If only they lived just a little closer to the great river, the Ratterlin. If only.

"I know what you speak of and I fear it, too. I wish only to deny it, though I know it useless. Have you explained to the younger children? What to do, that is, if… if…" The woman paused to take a deep, unsteady breath, "if… the Dead attack?"

"They know the rhyme and the quickest way to the Ratterlin," The Elder confirmed, "They know not to go near the wood under any circumstances. They know all these things. What I dread they lack is experience. We have not the time to show them exactly the way, exactly what to do. I focus on our defenses."

"As do I. I have taught all who can the Charter spells for burning and rending the Dead's rotten flesh useless. We have gathered all swords entrenched with Charter marks, however few that is. Older boys and girls are being taught how to best use their abilities if such a war were to break out. But I feel these things are useless. We should be running, running to the Ratterlin, running to safety, running to life. I believe only death will come here."

"I wish we could run, also, my dear. But I, at least, cannot. This is my village, my home. I will not sit and watch as the Dead overcome us so easily. They will not destroy what I have built. Not my pride, not my house, not my village, not my life."

"I would love to say I have your courage, mother, but I cannot. I am scared for everything's safety: the houses, the livestock, the people, the children. I am scared for my own daughter. She is reckless, being young. She tests my nerves every day. I want peace for the little while we may have it, but she strives for adventure and ruthless fun."

"It is her nature. You yourself were no angel from above. It runs in her blood, this audacious behavior. She is only the age of five—she has time to change. But we must make that time for her."

"Yes, we must. I would love to see the day she becomes an esteemed young woman with lovely ambitions. It is what I desire most."

"Then we must be strong for my granddaughter, for all granddaughters. We must make time for them. However, I do not expect to see you grow any older, nor do I expect to see your daughter grow into this young woman you speak of. The Dead will attack soon, I feel. I have no doubt I will perish in this battle."

The Elder looked toward her daughter, surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes. She gracefully took her up in a tight hug, kissing her lightly on the cheek. They stood there, mother and daughter, watching the afternoon sun wane to dusk. They both knew what might come with the sun's descent, though they wished they did not. For that short moment, they could pretend, like the children, that nothing mattered. They could forget about their responsibilities and obligations. They could forget everything. Everything including the ever watching Dead.


	2. The Mighty Ratterlin River

**Author's Note: **I'd like to thank the reviewers of my first chapter! It's nice to know people actually read my writing. :D I hope you continue to read the story and enjoy it! Also, because the Disclaimer is listed in the first chapter, I won't be putting any more up. Too lazy. x.x

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**When the Dead Do Walk  
Chapter Two: The Mighty Ratterlin River **

The first Dead came tumbling out of the forest not long after dusk, the red-wash sun just receding beyond the horizon. It was followed by a horde of other fetid bodies, and more pursued after those. Their decaying limbs rasped in bitter protest of being used far past their usefulness, but the Dead pushed on. The empty eye sockets titillating putrid flesh gave away nothing as to what they were headed for, though that soon became apparent, An appalling stench roiled off the rotting corpses as they advanced upon a small village, their lust for Life giving them unnatural energy. They were met with shrieks of fear, a sudden dread overcoming the once quiet houses. One Dead could hear this particular shriek above the rest:

"To the Ratterlin—to the river! Run, children, run!"

Children. Ratterlin. Run. These noises didn't make too much sense to the Dead creature, but it recognized them, faintly, from its own Life. Little children, running around, energetic, full of Life. And they would run to the Ratterlin, the river. River. That was bad, it knew. It could almost feel a current gripping at it's nonexistent flesh and dragging it under, carrying it farther and farther from the comforts it once knew… it wouldn't let itself feel that cold ever again. So it followed the bawling it heard and it followed the escaping band of children, Shadow Hands just now emerging to terrorize the rest of the village.

**–o—**

"Mommy, mommy!" The five-year-old screamed, but her mother—the village Elder's daughter, Kallen—pushed her away, towards the other fleeing children. Kallen's wild, almost non-human eyes lit up with sorrow and rage as she heard a dying scream from a familiar voice far off. It scared the girl to see her mother's eyes so strange and barbaric.

"No, no! Go with the other children, dear! Run to the Ratterlin!" Kallen screeched above the terrible sounds echoing in the village, sudden realization that her daughter may not run sending pangs of grief through her.

"But mommy!" The girl squealed in response, "I want to stay with you! I don't want to run! I don't want to leave Grandmother and you and everyone!"

In desperation, Kallen kneeled to her young daughter's height and took her arms in her hands firmly, her grasp making the girl wince. She stared mournfully in her eyes and said in a low, soothing voice,

"We will meet again. Please, remember that we will! Our arms may never touch again, and I may never again kiss you a good night, but we will find each other. It is the path a mother and daughter and grandmother and friends always follow in the end. Now go! Run as quickly and as silently as you may!"

Giving the weeping girl one last encouraging push toward the lingering children, Kallen turned once more to the onslaught of the village. Somewhere, her own mother was struggling for life, as was everyone. They would need her. Steadying a sudden wave of dizziness with her sword, which was set as a walking stick in the ground, she took her first few steps toward the raging battle between the Living and the Dead.  
**  
–o—**

The other children had long ago fell behind in the dense forest, complaining of cramps and sores. She kept up her rapid sprint, the hopeless noises of the village fading and her mother's words repeating constantly in her mind. _We will find each other_. She believed it with all her heart. There was no doubt in her mind that if she just kept running to the Ratterlin and made it, her mother, grandmother and the whole village would be waiting on the other side, back to normal. If she could only make it that far…

She thought she could hear another child catch up to her, the twigs and leaves crunching always a bit behind her, but she dared not look back. She would lose time. And what would happen if it wasn't a child, but some half-dead, half-living evil spirit? Surely, she would fall in fear and her whole cause would be lost.

_Just keep running. Just keep running. Just keep running. We'll find each other again…_

Suddenly, she burst through the line of trees and came upon an open field. It was still night, or maybe early in the morning, but she stopped nonetheless to stare out at the sudden openness. It was odd. Somehow, she didn't feel comfortable in it, as if anything disturbing the flat land should be severely punished. But an accomplished, callous screech close behind returned her to common sense and her present situation. A Dead thing must be pursuing her. But then… what had happened to the other children?

She shivered, tears just barely leaking out of her tired eyes and immediately ran on. Her legs felt weak and able to collapse at any moment, though she ignored this. Just a bit farther and the Ratterlin may be in sight…

She heard something grate across the tree bark, or rather she felt it in her bones. Dead skin, brushing against the trees… it must be closing in on her! Driven by fear and desire for normality, she rushed across the wide expanse of land, but still the Ratterlin hadn't appeared. She panicked, knowing soon the Dead may crash into her body and start choking her, or punching her, or ripping at her skin… it could already be pouncing and she wouldn't know it.

She risked a quick look back.

A mistake, she soon found. The Dead wasn't as close as she had feared, but it was gaining on her. Now she had lost maybe the few seconds she needed to jump into the river and be free from the fear of the Dead... how could she be so careless? The Dead thing looked intent on catching her, and it seemed to be filled with recently found energy. The only way the Dead grew this lively was in stealing Life…

The fate of her friends was obvious. She choked back tears, understanding now that things wouldn't be normal. They could still be there, but not like they were before. That could never happen. She couldn't be stupid anymore. She had to be smart and escape this thing. The village was waiting, just on the other side of the Ratterlin…

She could hear its dull roaring, a sort of lulling sensation that gave her inexplicable hope. The Dead's creaking and moaning seemed to grow louder, too, though. Her sweating palms reached out subconsciously, looking to be embraced and saved by the river's repellent of the Dead. It couldn't be too much longer now…

The dullness of the river had grown to a full-fledged bellow, though she hardly noticed. She was stumbling with fatigue and terror. It was so close, but even now she could fail. The Dead's rasping breath was on her bare neck, eagerness fueling its limbs. Its prey would not—could not—escape.

It reached out to the little girl, a slit barely recognizable as a crude mouth curling up in joy. The chilly, rotten skin of the Dead stank with mold, the scent drifting to the girl's wide nostrils. A few more steps and the Ratterlin would be crashing under her feet…

Its decaying fingers were just weaving around her scrawny neck when the land suddenly ceased below her and gave way to a tumult of waves and violent currents. Tears ran down her cheeks as she realized she'd made it at last. The Dead thing behind her let out a scream of displeasure as the carcass plunged into the crashing waters, its spirit returning to Death. She let out a sigh of relief, water spurting out rather than air. She realized she mustbe drowning before she realized she was not inhaling again. And suddenly, the Ratterlin grew cold around her.


End file.
